Chester Bennington died by hanging on Thursday, July 20th, 2017. The lead singer of Linkin Park went through a lot, there's no denying that. As everyone keeps saying, he was very vocal about his past, abuse, and unhappiness. Chris Cornell's death a few months ago clearly affected him, and while it took a toll on many people in the music industry, it seemed to really affect him enough to make him want to kill himself.
I went to a concert on the Saturday after that incident, and I listened to Jared Leto talk about how great Chester was and how amazing the conversations they had were. Hearing that made me really think. There was once a time when I thought about suicide. I had seriously considered it. I was barely a teenager, and I hated everything about myself. I was smart, so I got bullied. I wasn't the prettiest, so I got bullied. I wasn't social, so I got bullied. I liked to read and learn, so I definitely got bullied for that. Anything I did wasn't good enough for anyone. I learned easily so I didn't really need to study, but if I didn't read my textbooks, my father would punish me. I wanted to be social and hang out with my classmates, but my mother didn't have the time to pick me up from places. I wanted to be liked, but I wasn't invited to parties, or invited to dance at dances, and when I was invited, it was done as a dare or a joke.
By the time I was finishing middle school, I wanted everything to stop. I wanted the pain to end, I wanted to stop being unhappy, and if things couldn't get better by just getting through it, maybe it should've just ended permanently. I wanted to kill myself. I started cutting, dragging a scissor across my wrist, slightly knicking the skin. It would hurt, but I dealt with it; it was a pain I could control, and didn't have to worry about other people inflicting it. But I think I did it more for the attention. I ended up showing the scars off to someone at school, and the guidance counselor was called in. I spent time talking to him, and I tried to explain how I felt, and he brushed it off. How does a guidance counselor brush off the fact that a young person is blatantly stating that they are unhappy and depressed? I took a clinical dictionary off the bookshelf, and read the definition of depression. I stood there smirking; someone would finally believe me, after all this time. But I couldn't be depressed because (and I quote) "You're smiling right now!"
The only thing that saved me after that day was the saving grace of my baby sister. I love her beyond words, and I never wanted to have her hurt or feel the way I did. As long as she was alive and present in my life, I would not change that for anything.
I've been dealing with unhappiness for the last X years of my life. There are ups and downs, a lot more downs than ups. I've tried to get some help, and for about a year during college, I went to a counselor and talked about things. I cried during a lot of the sessions, but unfortunately things didn't get better. I thought about going to an actual psychiatrist, and looked into some, ones that had Saturday appointments, but no one followed up. So I gave up looking.
I know there is more to this story, but I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I think this blog post is over for today, but I will pick this story up when I get a chance to collect my thoughts.
Until next time - I'm Charlotte Carmichael and thanks for reading.
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